


Off and Running

by Spiria



Series: Hit the Ground [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 21:31:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4408565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiria/pseuds/Spiria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Retreating to Pulse, Hope finds his niche in the village of Oerba where he's befriended Vanille and Fang. The war between the countries, however, continues to rage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off and Running

Ten years later, Hope celebrated his twenty-fourth birthday with Vanille and Fang. Traditions differed somewhat between Cocoon and Pulse; they did not have cake, but they held a modest village gathering with an overabundance of protein. Vanille had spent the better part of the week inviting the villagers. Fang hunted, and the haul for their party was a behemoth sizable enough to feed a few dozen mouths.

Hope pressed back against the chair, rubbing the yellow scarf wrapped around his left wrist.

“No, Vanille, I insist,” he said, dodging the fork of behemoth meat.

“It’s the last bite, and it’s yours!” said Vanille, pushing the fork closer.

She reached out, grasped Hope by the wrist, and pulled him forward. With a gasp, Hope looked away, a faint blush crossing his soft features. On Fang’s urging, he turned back with a sigh and took the end of the fork with the behemoth meat into his mouth.

“See, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” asked Vanille, withdrawing the empty fork.

“I wanted you to have it,” said Hope, shaking his head.

“Oh, shush. It’s your birthday!”

“Yeah? I thought we were supposed to share everything with each other.”

“Are you two going to go at it all day or help?” asked Fang as she stooped down to gather the bowl and plates.

“I’ll go!” Vanille leaped onto her feet and took a plate.

Hope gathered an armful of utensils stacked atop several plates and followed, receiving a nod of approval from Fang. To her right, Vanille dropped her plate into the sink before rounding on Hope with both hands perched on her hips.

“And what,” she said, punctuating every word, “are you doing?”

“Helping?” asked Hope.

“Oh, no, you don’t. Give me those.” Vanille strode forth and swiped the topmost plate with the utensils. She dropped those into the sink, which clanged as the dishes smacked into each other, then whipped around to grab the rest from Hope’s possession.

“Can I at least wash them?” he asked.

“Fang’s going to wash,” said Vanille with a bounce in her tone of voice. On cue, Fang, shaking her head, approached the sink to turn the faucet.

Hope knit his brow, his lips turning down in confusion. “What do you have against me handling the dishes?”

“You can do the dishes when it’s _our_ birthdays.”

“But . . . ” Sighing, Hope shook his head.  “Never mind.”

The corners of Vanille’s lips curled into a smile as she turned on her heels. She grabbed the bottle of dish soap off to the side of the sink and squeezed its contents into a sponge, which she handed off to Fang. Gasping, she cupped her face in one hand.

“I know what you can do. You can see Bhakti!”

“Bhakti?” repeated Hope. “Is he broken again?”

“Well, he _has_ been behaving a bit oddly.”

“Yep, he’s broken,” said Fang. Outed, Vanille huffed Fang’s name. “What? Just telling him what he needs to know. He won’t work his magic fingers if you’re not straight.”

Hope groaned. “Not you, too. My fingers aren’t – “

“Anyway, you’ll see him, right?” interrupted Vanille.

“Sure. Where is he?”

“I didn’t want him to get lost, wandering the way he’s been . . . so he’s in the single unit!”

“Right . . . I’ll be seeing you, then.” Hope waved. “Later, Fang.” For his troubles, he received a hum.

The single unit was a two-minute walk away and up the stairs. Reaching for the knob, Hope paused when he heard a series of erratic thumps from inside. He took a deep breath, twisted the knob, hurled himself in, and shut the door behind him. Bhakti collided headfirst into Hope’s shoe, the temporary exit to freedom closed.

Bhakti began to jerk toward another direction. Hope crouched down to grab him. The robot beeped, then let out a high-pitched squeal resembling audio feedback. Hope cringed, but understood then the primary issue without having to open up Bhakti for a diagnosis.

“‘A bit oddly,’” muttered Hope.

In the end, Hope managed to fix Bhakti through nonintrusive means. By the time the robot made its third successful round around the room, the door swung open and Vanille stood in the doorway. She cupped her cheeks and gasped in delight.

“Oh, you fixed him!” She swooped over to crouch in front of Bhakti. “You’re absolutely amazing, Hope.”

“Not really,” said Hope, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did this sort of thing a lot when I was younger.”

“Yeah? What other stuff did you work on?” asked Vanille.

“Well . . . little things. I’d fiddle with whatever broke around the house. My mother used to say I could grow up to be an amazing engineer, but . . . ”

Vanille tapped a finger against her chin, her lips pressing together into a near pout as she eyed Hope.

“You know, that Pulsian unit you came with – Alexander – couldn’t have been functional on his own. He’s too old. Did you fix him, too?” she asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did. To be honest, nothing seems as difficult anymore, thanks to him,” said Hope, his voice light and his tone nostalgic. “And it wasn’t just Alexander. Pulse has such unique technology. It’s . . . outdated to Cocoon’s, but it’s also more advanced.”

Hope bowed his head in thought, the whirring sound of Bhakti’s engine filling the quiet room. Vanille stopped tapping her chin and cupped her knees with her hands to lean forward, her head tilted to look past the mess of Hope’s front bangs. Realizing their proximity, Hope jerked back by an inch.

“It’s been a while since you had a haircut,” said Vanille, resting her cheek on a fist.

“Is, is that important?” asked Hope as he tugged on a bundle of hair. “But it’s not very long.”

“You’re right. It’s not. And you haven’t been sick for a while, either.”

“That’s . . . true.”

“I remember when you first came here, you’d get sick all the time. The elders thought you weren’t going to survive, but Fang and I just knew you’d make it. Most people from Cocoon can’t handle the crystals in the air, see. But you did just fine.”

Hope nodded. “I think it’s gotten better. Back then, I thought I was going to die. The crystals aren’t as thick in the air in Cocoon, but it felt like I was swimming in them when I woke up in Oerba.”

“So you’re feeling perfectly fine right now?”

“I do.”

All of a sudden, Vanille hopped to a stand with a cheer. “Right! Then you’re all set to go. Hope, let’s visit the Steppe.”

“The, the Steppe?” Hope unfolded his legs to rise slowly, his brow creased. “With Fang?”

“Nope. Just you and me.”

“I don’t know, Vanille. I’m not as good a hunter as you guys. What if something happens?”

“You’ll be fine. You’re so much stronger than you were ten years ago!”

“That was ten years ago . . . I was fourteen. I’d hope I’m stronger now,” said Hope, his throat seeming to swell and trap more words from escaping.

“Oh, come on. Please? I’ll even let you have the next part Bhakti finds,” said Vanille, and she bent down again to pick up the robot for emphasis.

Hope sighed. “Fine. I can’t say no to you.”

With another yip, Vanille led the way. What Hope thought would be a short trip turned into a journey across the entire Steppe to a narrow col, where multiple beds of colorful flowers were spread. Despite the shaded entrance, the alcove past the col was sprawling and receptive to sunlight, which illuminated the small field that surpassed the gardens in Oerba.

Hope took in the beautiful sight while he rested his hands on his knees, panting. On the other hand, Vanille stretched with renewed vigor like they had not just run from a massive behemoth. She bounded over to the bed in the center and plucked a green flower with white edges.

“Here,” she said, whirling around and tucking the flower in Hope’s hair by the stem.

Speechless, Hope touched the flower. “Vanille?”

“I know you’d much rather play with your gadgets, but I wanted to show you this. Aren’t they beautiful?” asked Vanille, spreading her arms wide to present the flowers.

“Yeah, but Vanille? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Falling silent, Vanille leaned down to pet the petals of a blue flower. Hope watched, curious, as he dropped his hand from his ear.

“I want you to know that the ongoing war between our countries isn’t your fault. Sure, you fixed up Alexander, but he was an outdated model. There were already at least a dozen espionage units prowling Cocoon ten years ago,” said Vanille. “I mean, how could an innocent child start a war? Sounds silly when you think about it, doesn’t it?”

Sheepish about his insecurity, Hope flushed and looked away. “I guess so.”

“So you shouldn’t feel guilty – especially not now.”

“Vanille? You’re worrying me.”

“Here.” Vanille twisted at the waist to offer Hope a hand, and then pulled him down next to her. Up close, the flowers were even more beautiful. “I want you to see them with me. See how healthy they are?”

They sat for a while, caressing the flowers and Vanille teaching Hope about all the different kinds and their individual quirks. When the sun began to set, the sky turning a murky orange, she threw her head back and stretched to a stand while he continued to eye her. Vanille’s smile when she straightened had a touch of melancholy, her brow knit in a similar tone.

“Fang and I are going,” she said, and Hope’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“Going? You mean, to the war?” he asked, his eyes wide.

Vanille nodded. “The elders decided earlier today. We’re to head out tomorrow. Quick, huh? One minute we’re here, and the next – bam! – we’re gone.”

“That’s . . . ” Hope trailed off, struggling to find the right answer. “You’re right. There’s no time in-between at all.”

“But we’re not _going_ going,” said Vanille, jabbing a finger at Hope’s chest. “We’ll always be with you, right here.”

“ . . . Yeah.”

An eternity seemed to pass before Hope sucked in a deep breath and straightened to look Vanille in the eye. His lips, pursed just moments prior, widened and curled at the corners into a small smile. Compared to that of Vanille’s, his appeared more sincere, if shy.

“I wish you luck. Come back with Fang once it’s over,” he said.

“I’ll do my best. So will Fang. In the meanwhile, _you’d_ better take care of the flowers back home,” said Vanille.

“I will. I’ll water them and everything every day.”

“Good.” Vanille opened her arms wide, tilting her head impatiently. “Now give me a hug.”

He did, and they did not cling to each other lest they decided to never let go. Afterward, they returned to Oerba and kept their little venture a secret, even from Fang, and Hope spent the rest of the evening with the girls. At night, he stared at the wall and turned in bed, tossing as a terrible feeling churned in his stomach. After many hours struggling with his inner turmoil, Hope fell into blissful asleep.

Vanille and Fang left the next day, their packs light and purpose heavy. A week after their departure, Hope took some flower seeds from the community gardens and started his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Initially beyond the border, Pulse looked like a lifeless valley that stretched for miles and miles. No matter where Hope and Alexander went, there seemed to be no sign of civilization. The cut Hope had sustained from the glass when he’d broken into the robotics store flared with infection, and he passed out from exhaustion. He was discovered by Vanille, who brought him to Oerba.
> 
> Hope liked Oerba, even if it took him a while to grow accustomed to the less industrial ways of Pulse. He was grateful for the company of Vanille and Fang, for the local authorities had confiscated Alexander. If they had it their way, Hope would have been thrown out as well, but the kind people of Oerba chose to care for him.
> 
> Due to the crystals in the air, the people of Pulse aged slower and had a longer lifespan. Hope was the odd child who grew at an accelerated rate, and he initially suffered a respiratory crisis as his body rejected the crystals. By the age of 24, his body adapted and his own aging began to slow. Still, his accelerated growth pushed him to learn faster. He wasn’t as social as Vanille or as skilled a hunter as her or Fang, but he was clever and handy.
> 
> Over the years, Hope retained much of his timid personality with a hint of indecisiveness and a heap of buried guilt. The authorities prohibited him from participating in the war, and he felt no inclination to disobey.


End file.
